Xerox It
by lemonjelly
Summary: A WarrickSara standalone: “Fine,” she answered...“Do whatever you like.” A sly and mischievous grin spread across his face...“Oh I will, Sara. I will.”


**Disclaimer: They're not mine**

**Spoilers: None**

**Rating: PG**

**Summary: I've been writing too much GCR lately – okay, it's true, you can never write too much GCR – but I needed to write a very WarrickSara stand-alone to keep me going! So you don't have to read it, but if you do – enjoy it! And review! **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed North-West, I'm sorry that really was a stand-alone and there'll be no continuation of that – not yet anyway. But huge thanks to Megara1, Kelly, Daisyangel, nick55, Geeky Annie, MissyJane, wtchspll, Gonna Marry A CSI, Charmed-angel4 and Jenn Sidle. It was majorly appreciated. Gotta love getting reviews! Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

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**Xerox It**

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It was only when Sara got to work that morning did she actually have time to check her mail. Standing by the open door of her locker in the locker room, she took out a sheaf of envelopes that she'd hurriedly grabbed when leaving for work. Phone bill, junk, flyers – she either bagged or binned the papers that came through her letter box and then she stopped on one thicker envelope. It was postmarked San Francisco and had a hand-written address.

Running her nail under the envelope lip, she slid out the chunk of papers inside: an update from her social worker and a collection of photographs that she'd just found whilst spring-cleaning her office. There were a few of them. The kids from the group home on a social services-organised trip to the zoo; Sara and one of her rare friends at school; Sara caught off-guard and looking up from her high school chemistry textbook. That last one made her cringe as she looked at herself, a skinny, bookish kid with teeth liberally wired by a brace, shooting the photographer a dark look. She'd been about fourteen and never a fan of the camera.

"Well that one's going in the bin," she muttered to herself and dumped the photograph into the wastepaper basket that stood in the corner of the room. Gently shaking her head with nostalgia, she shoved the envelopes back into her bag and carried on getting ready for work.

"Morning," Warrick greeted her, sauntering in. "Just starting?"

"Yep," Sara replied before looking up and grinning at what she saw. "Love the look, Warrick. Very 60s."

"Huh?" Warrick glanced into the mirror in the locker room and rolled his eyes at the blossom petal that'd managed to entangle itself in his hair. He plucked it out, commenting good-naturedly, "That's what you get for driving to work with your windows down in the middle of Spring."

Sara only laughed as he threw the petal away. There was a long pause that followed until Warrick spoke up in gleeful tones.

"Well, well, well – what do we have here?"

Sara looked up and gasped in mortification to see him surveying a familiar photo.

"Oh no – no, you give that back!" Sara demanded, advancing. Warrick grinned and, to her extreme humiliation, wouldn't take his eyes off the photo as he held it just out of her reach.

"You were a very cute kid, Sidle." he told her mockingly.

"Warrick!" she snapped and lunged at him. He sprang nimbly out of her way.

"I like the metal – rock on!" he teased.

"Give it back!" she yelled and jumped onto his back, one arm fastening around his neck and her legs wrapping around his waist. "Give it back, 'Rick!"

"But you don't want it! You threw it out!" he protested, with his infuriatingly long arms holding the picture still inches away from Sara's grasping fingers. "Finders keepers, Sara – surely you know that?"

Sara sighed exasperatedly and dropped off from his back.

"Fine," she answered, shrugging it off and trying not to look as though she knew he'd won. "You're right. I don't want it. Do whatever you like."

A sly and mischievous grin spread across his face as he slipped the photograph into his locker for safe-keeping. "Oh I will, Sara. I will."

-

She'd tried to ignore him for the rest of the day, tried to pretend nothing had happened that morning and tried, desperately tried, not to think of that horrifying photo of her younger self in his locker but everytime she looked up at him, he would give her a knowing smirk and she'd look away again, flushing red. He did this all the while Grissom was delegating cases that morning and purposely sat himself opposite her at the rectangular table to give him the best possible opportunities for making her cheeks turn that pink-red colour.

"Everybody got that?" Grissom asked finally, looking around the table. Sara nodded absent-mindedly, trying not to look at Warrick who was nodding over-enthusiastically beside their supervisor in the hope of attracting her attention. It didn't matter that her eyes didn't even flicker his way; he had quickly learnt that she didn't even need to be looking at him to be put off by him.

It was just as Grissom was leaving the room that he struck.

"Hey, Griss?" he began crisply, getting up. Sara was leaving the room, following Nick and Greg out, when she heard him speak up and stopped in the doorway, suspiciously.

"Yes?" Grissom looked up from his desk.

"Can I borrow the Admin key card?" he asked. "I've got to use the copy machine."

"Sure," Grissom replied absent-mindedly and handed him the card from a desk drawer.

"Thanks," Warrick chirped, pocketing in the card and heading out of the door. He ran into Sara just outside it and wasn't surprised to see she'd heard everything. She looked distinctly disconcerted as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Why do you need the copy machine?" she challenged. "Nobody uses the copy machine anymore."

It was true – the machine, brand new only in the 90s, had been practically rendered obsolete since most things were passed around the offices by email or printed out. Having been overtaken by the internet, scanners and printers, the copy machine had been moved to a tucked-away corner of the building and left to gather dust in solitude. The last time it was used had been by one Greg Sanders who'd taken great delight in xeroxing a magazine article on their very own CSI Nick Stokes. That copier, Greg shifted the blame, landed them all into a lot of trouble.

"Sure they do," Warrick lied. "I need it to work up a case." He carried on walking and Sara ran to walk beside him.

"How exactly is an outdated photocopier needed in your case?" she furthered. Warrick shot her another grin.

"Well, Ms Sidle, that's exactly why I'm on this case and you're doing something else, isn't it?" he kidded with exaggerated superiority. Sara narrowed her eyes.

"You are a cruel, cruel man." she hissed before having to head off towards Ballistics, hearing Warrick's gleeful laughter travel down the hall in the other direction.

-

Warrick swiped the key card on the copy machine and stood back, wiping a film of dust off the screen as it lit up. He looked at the letter in his hands – he _did_ have a use for the machine, he argued with the fictional Sara in his mind. Though he could've easily printed out six copies of this letter before he sent it out to the overseas companies that had serviced the vic in the last fortnight, he thought he might as well have a valid excuse for using the copy machine in case anyone asked.

Someone did ask, as it turned out. Tracking him down in the secluded copy room, Sara appeared accusingly and, shutting the door quietly behind her, made him jump with her sudden remark.

"Don't think you're getting away with this." she spoke from behind him. He spun around and smiled pleasantly at her.

"Getting away with what, Sara?" he asked her innocently. He held up the letter. "I only wanted to make some copies of this letter. Is that such a crime?" Sara stared in suspicion and then suddenly whipped her hand into the back pocket of his trousers.

"Aha!" she pulled out the photograph triumphantly.

"Hey! That's rightfully mine!" he declared and made to grab it from her. In a very small room, with most of the floor space being occupied by an over-sized copy machine, the tussle was confused and frantic. When the photograph left both their hands and fluttered behind the machine, they continued fighting for a moment or two until they realised neither of them had it.

"Well I guess that settles it then," Warrick observed, looking down the back of the huge copy machine. Sara turned to him with raised eyebrows.

"No it does not," she said firmly. "I am not leaving that photograph here where someone else can pick it up."

"How, Sara?" he gestured at the hefty machine. "Unless the lab's latest recruit happens to be CSI Bruce Banner."

Sara, who had clambered onto the copier and peered down the back, commented distractedly, "The Hulk? You always struck me as more of a Superman kind of guy."

"Oh really?" he raised an eyebrow. "Why's that Sara?"

She shook her head in disbelief at his outrageous flirting and rolled her eyes. "Don't even, Warrick." She sighed and, jumping down, kicked the machine frustratedly. "Stupid hunk of junk."

"Hey!" he protested. "Don't take it out on the machine! These babies have made many a drunken college party so much more fun!"

"Fun?" Sara looked dubious.

Warrick shrugged his shoulders with a smile. "Sure – you mean you never had your butt xeroxed?"

Sara was unable to hold back a laugh at his question. "Not me, no." She shook her head again in similar incredulity and bent down to see if she could reach the photograph.

"Pity." came his remark.

"What is?" she mumbled, trying to reach the paper in vain. Warrick smirked, watching her with satisfaction.

"Cos I sure as hell would like a copy of that." he told her. Her head snapped back and she caught him blatantly staring at her ass without guilt.

"Yeah? Well dream on, 'Rick and get your Hulk-butt over here – I need you to help me shift this machine back," she instructed and he willingly obliged, grabbing the other end of the copy machine.

It slid slowly and reluctantly away from the wall, sending up clouds of dust everytime it moved another painstaking inch or two.

"Can you reach it yet?" he complained.

"I thought you were meant to be strong." she retaliated but stood back and watched as he shifted the machine relatively single-handedly, waiting for the first glimpse of that photo. Well, she wasn't exactly going to let him get his hands on that picture before she did – not after all of this.

As soon as there was enough space to slip behind the machine, she grabbed the photograph out of the tangle of cables and grinned. The grin vanished from her face however when, second later, Warrick launched himself at her in another attempt to snatch the picture. His foot caught on a wire and he took a tumble, landing painfully on the floor with Sara tripped on top of him and dust billowing in the air.

He lay for a while as the dust settled and groaned between coughs.

"Ow," he rubbed the back of his head. "This is why it's always better to be on top."

Sara rolled her eyes again – he sure was going for the gold for all the innuendos he'd been using lately – and opened her mouth to make another quick quip when her nose twitched. The dust falling through the air had gotten to her and, turning her head to the wall, she sneezed twice. When she turned back to look at Warrick, he was chuckling to himself.

"What?" she defied him.

"That sneeze has got to be one of the cutest things I've ever heard." he marvelled with a smile. She arched a cynical eyebrow.

"Cute?" she was never one to take being called cute.

"Yeah – right up there with, y'know, kittens and babies and all." he teased.

"What is it with you today? First flowers in your hair and now this?" her jibe was sharp but tinged with a sort of affection. He grinned but didn't answer because her head suddenly jerked up, alert.

"Where's the picture?" her eyes darted around the room and fell back on him when he pulled his arm free from under her, holding deftly between two fingers the photograph. She reached for it but he pulled back once more.

"Can't I keep it?" he requested.

"What do you want with a photo of a fourteen-year old girl, anyway?" she asked with scepticism. He laughed at her insinuations.

"I like having something you want," he replied. "Especially if it gets me into more situations like this." Sara smiled at him, thinking to herself – why not?

"You always have something that I want." she told him and, leaning down on him, pressed her lips to his. Warrick looked at her, surprised, when she drew back finally.

"My sweet talking finally paid off?" he inquired with a grin.

"Something like that," she answered vaguely and leant down to kiss him again.

As they kissed, lying in the dust and cables behind an out-of-date copy machine in the most remote corner of the lab, Sara gently plucked the picture out of his fingers and slid it neatly into the back pocket of her jeans. After all, it wasn't fair, she reasoned, for him to have two things she wanted.

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